A Nightmare
by HopefullyAnAuthor
Summary: The last titan was killed. The world was safe...until 2015. Now they're back, in a world that knows them only from ancient history, and that has lost any methods of fighting back. Ellen, a schoolgirl from London, has a story to tell. Rated T for possible violent content.
1. Prologue: The Last Titan

**Disclaimer: This story is purely original, except the titans, which I take no credit for. **

His cropped hair was whipped by the wind as he soared through it, like a boat whose sail was being buffeted in all directions. Armin could see his target with its ridiculous grin, toddling towards their squadron, who, in turn, spun as fast as they could towards _it_.

_This is the last titan. The last one. This _is _the last Titan, _was all he could think. It pulsed through his mind like a drum, like his own heartbeat. Even though there were five others there, each was locked away behind these same thoughts, wondering what lay ahead for them.

Would humanity even survive without the common goal of the Titans to fight against? Surely there'd be a civil war over leadership- already arguments were starting between the politicians, starved of power for years, and the generals, who were being accused of knowing nothing except combat, not _true_ leadership of a nation.

_And isn't it ironic_, thought Armin dully, _that the very last Titan should be simply a normal two-metre class? Nothing compared to the battles we've won before? No glorious ending...just an extinction of a species..._

_Wonder how Eren feels about that._

The small squadron fanned out quietly into a circle around the Titan, without a single order from their leader. It was almost ceremonious. The titan, silly thing, just kept on smiling, waving its stubby arms about. Childlike in appearance. So much so that, in the half-moment before he could remember the friends he'd lost, the families they'd destroyed, the bloodstained towns left to rot, filled with endless piles of discarded, flesh-coloured toys, Armin thought, _does it really eat humans? Can it really kill?_

He watched, numb, as Eren shifted, and obediently kicked the Titan down, rolling it onto its back and pinning it with his foot. He watched, too, as Mikasa, a Thumbelina-girl compared to the ogre beside her, drifted silently down to the titan's neck, and raised her sword.

_There are no more titans. None at all. _


	2. Chapter 1: A Fire Drill

**Disclaimer: This story is completely original, except for the titans, of course. **

I sat in my French class, on a Thursday afternoon, when it happened.

I didn't usually listen in French; it made no sense to me really. I mean, I knew other people could understand the language, but no one that I knew then spoke fluent French, so it seemed pointless to learn it. Now of course I realise that was a mistake. Languages are what make us human, what link us all.

Scrawling doodles around my notes for some assessment I'd probably fail, I watched the hands on the clock picking their laborious way around its face, hinting that they'd reach the time I needed it to be, but never quite releasing me from my educational prison facility.

Suddenly, a fire alarm blared. _Great_. The last thing I needed was to miss my bus because I had to line up outside like a twat behind everybody else. Quietly, I slipped my phone into my blazer pocket, ready to tell my mum I'd be late back after class. We trooped out, some whispering excitedly about their weekend plans, others yawning and rolling their eyes at all the teachers demanding their silence.

But something seemed a little off. I watched as my French teacher conferred with Mr Blackwell from English about what might be going on. From what I could make out, neither had been told about this drill, and neither did other the teachers I passed; all were in little huddles of officious dismay.

So this wasn't a drill.

Probably some idiot had smashed the glass on a button somewhere for a prank. That had happened before. Or a false alarm from the kitchens, maybe? But lunch had been and gone. Inside me, a little drum-roll of excitement and delicious panic had begun. Why were we being called out? Where had this alarm come from?

I caught the attention of one of my friends, Rachel. My plans to shyly ask her out after class had fallen to pieces already, but she couldn't have known that. In fact, my courage had failed every Friday before this one, so I wasn't surprised at myself.

"Hey!" I hissed, turning into one of the giggling girls we both usually so despised, "They don't know what's going on. It's a real alarm this time!"

Her grey-blue eyes lit up, wide with new interest. "Really? Is there a fire then? How do you know?"

"Just look at them all," I said, proud of my deductions, "I mean, have you ever seen Miss Palmer look that edgy?"

The white-haired maths teacher hurried past us, nervously looking from side to side. Rachel and I looked at one another, trying not to laugh. Miss Palmer was always dodgy-looking, fire drill or no fire drill. Rachel said once she looked like she'd been a drug dealer in a past life. So 'Sniff-It-Off-Your-Palmer' she became.

The fire drill was becoming really irritating. The droning wail of the siren just went on, and on and on. So I just tried not to be too conspicuous about staring at Rachel.

We'd been friends since Year 7, and it had taken me a year to admit to myself that I was falling in love with her, another girl. I'd never thought much about love or attraction before then, assuming that I was too young to know about either, and that when I started secondary school and puberty, I'd start crushing on boys like all the other girls. When I told my parents, shortly after I'd figured myself out at age 13, they hugged me and told me they loved me very much, and I knew I was so lucky to have them, as if I hadn't realised before then. But I hadn't yet built up the courage to come out to my best friend, since being head over heels for her very much complicated things.

Rachel was beautiful. She had short, bobbed brown hair that she liked to put coloured hair chalk into at the weekends, and small blue eyes that lit up like little supernovas when she laughed or had a moment of inspiration. She was always worried about her weight, not being the typical, skinny teenage girl type. She'd told me many times that boys wouldn't want to date her because of her size. Needless to say, I disagreed. She meant the world to me. So I had to hope.

We trooped along in semi-silence, never good enough for our teachers, and formed the stupid, straight lines outside in the basketball courts. I watched as the staff congregated around our headmistress, whose expression shocked me. Miss Stone was generally noted for having as much emotion as her namesake, but today she looked, well...nervous. The school stunned itself into silence.

"It was me who pressed the alarm," she said through a megaphone, "Because I...Well, I...I was watching the news on my computer and...and...and..."

Miss Stone never stuttered. Or hesitated. Something was wrong. So wrong. We all knew it.

"The headline story is that...that huge...huge creatures are flooding through...through Europe. It seems that people have...have identified them from past history...I'm sure you've all heard of them. Titans."

Gasps of disbelief were let out by nearly all of us, but no one dared speak to their neighbours. We'd seen the action movies, the ancient pictures. In history in Year 9 we'd studied battle strategies of the Second Titan Era, from ancient diaries and records we'd had to research. Why would Miss Stone say this stuff?

"But...But they died out," breathed Rachel behind me. I don't think she knew that she'd said it aloud.

"It seems that they have a-appeared from nowhere," continued Miss Stone, shuddering a little, "And now...now they have nearly conquered Germany, Poland and ...and Ukraine. The public weren't told because...because they thought they were able to stop the...the ... titans. The government sent out a message to all schools, saying that students are dismissed from their educations until further notice. Adults with professions are also being dismissed imminently. ...They want us all to...to spend time together...They can see no...no way out at the present...at the present time."

Then she burst into tears. The whole school was silent, but for the fire alarm and its sobbing headmistress.

I felt like I was standing on a cliff edge. Behind me, the world was ending.

She hadn't lied. As soon as we were dismissed, almost everyone was grouped around someone's phone or a PC in one of the classrooms, staring in horror at the videos of enormous giants, grinning like it was Christmas, plucking people from buildings, tearing up towns just by walking through them. Unstoppable.

The toilets were full of people throwing up, crying, calling home, and even some couples kissing like there was no tomorrow. As far as we knew, there wasn't. It seemed our little island had about three weeks until they came for us, thanks to the blessed English Channel.

I knew what _I_ had to do first: get my little brother, Mike, out of the crowds at his school. For, when I reached it with Rachel, both of us panting and tasting bile, there were so many families. Parents clutched at their children, most of whom were far too young to comprehend what titans were, beyond the DVD covers of films they couldn't yet watch. I shouted into the mass of people and tears,

"Mike! Michael Frederick Vorn, it's me! Your sister, Ellen Sarah Vorn!"

Rachel joined in, and we both yelled, "Mike! Mike!" until I was ready to dive into the crowds, when a small boy rushed up and hugged my legs.

"Mike!" I hugged him so hard, disappointed that this was not something I usually did. But today, ordinary had gone out of the window. "Mike, we have to get home."

"Because of titans?" he asked quietly. God, how could a nine year old boy be a part of this awful situation?

"Yes, because of titans," I murmured, scooping him up into my arms, even though he was almost too old for that, and handing Rachel his schoolbag. "Mike, we're going to have to be brave, OK? Mum and Dad...they will be just as scared as us."

He nodded wisely, his sweet-smelling, frizzy hair scratching my nose.

We walked quickly across roads, down quieter streets and then to our house above Dad's Caribbean restaurant. Rachel stays with us- she only lives two doors down anyway.

I unlocked the door, took a deep breath...and we walked upstairs to our flat.


End file.
